The Mind's Eye (4 page)
Authors: K.C. Finn
Tags: #young adult, #historical, #wwii, #historical romance, #ww2, #ya, #europe, #telepathic, #clean teen publishing, #kc finn
man wasn’t alone in his room for long. He turned my viewpoint to a
set of doors painted in blue and gold as another man entered the
room. My man leapt out of his seat so fast I felt sick from the
transition; he was standing upright and saying something to the new
chap in a language that I didn’t understand. I saw the new arrival
properly then, in his grey-green suit and trousers. No, not a suit.
A uniform. His collar had two red rectangles sticking out under his
fat chin, each covered in golden leaf patterns. A row of coloured
medals adorned the man’s chest and his hat bore the symbol of a
bird of prey in flight, with a u-shaped golden laurel thing and
what looked like a target in the middle. And under the bird of prey
was a symbol I knew. A swastika.
“
Generalfeldmarschall,” said the man whose head I occupied. I
felt him give some kind of salute; his heart was suddenly pounding
in my ears.
dreamed, I knew I was seeing something I shouldn’t be. I drifted in
and out of consciousness as the men began their conversation in
what I now knew had to be the German tongue. There was a trick to
maintaining focus in my sleep that I had not quite mastered; it was
hard to stay alert when I knew that I was actually already
unconscious. I noticed that the man whose mind I held also had the
grey-green sleeves of the military uniform on. The other more
superior man had ordered him to clear his desk, after which he laid
out a map for him, and me, to see.
I had never
been any good at Geography, even when I was still healthy enough to
attend school. The map was a funny looking coastline with all sorts
of jagged bits that didn’t make sense, as though someone had taken
a knife to the country and cut long deep valleys of water into it,
with other valleys jutting off to the sides. If it was a country I
knew by name then it wasn’t one I’d ever bothered to look up on a
map, but through my man’s eyes I was forced to study it closely and
carefully. I could feel his nerves rising the more his superior
talked at him, until the high ranking man slammed a strong, old
finger down on the map at a space on the coast.
Oslo.
I knew the
city’s name, but the country was still lost on me. As I tried to
pull the information from my conscious memory I felt the familiar
cold shiver start to creep up my spine. I tried to resist, tried to
stay with the mind I had found, but I knew really that it was too
late. The connection was fading. I was falling into a proper
sleep.
***
I awoke the
next morning to the sound of birds outside the window, which
alarmed me at first. The only birds to ever wake me in London were
the pigeons, and whatever was outside in the farmland right now was
much louder and less considerate than they were. As I lay flat
looking up at the black beams of the ceiling my mind drifted back
to the German viewpoint I had discovered the night before. It was
such a fabulous possibility, to be able to see right into the war.
I sighed heavily, knowing that it would be pure luck to ever get
back to it again.
I jolted my
spine as I heard my door starting to open, but I was relieved to
find it was only Leighton stumbling in. The sight of him in his
stripy red and white pyjamas made me ache for Mum and home
suddenly. He had a sad look on his usually cheeky face that made me
suspect he was feeling the same way. Leigh said nothing as he
rounded my bed and clambered in, taking the biscuit Mam had left me
the night before and starting to munch. He cuddled up next to me
very slowly; he knew how difficult my morning stiffness was. It
hurt to bring my arm down and put it around him, but I did it
anyway.
“
Is your bedroom nice?” I asked him as I felt his little jaw
chewing against my side.
“
It’s bigger than at home,” he answered with his mouth full,
“But I had strange dreams.”
“
Don’t blame the room for that,” I soothed, rubbing his back,
“That’s just you stuffing your face with cheese all
day.”
giggled for a moment, but it faded away. “Do want help to sit up?”
he asked.
I felt a pang
inside. Mum had always been the one to hoist me up in the morning.
I wasn’t even sure that Leighton would be strong enough to pull
me.
We had just
about managed it between us when Mam arrived in the room, looking
very smart in a pink dress that clung to her round shape. She
thanked Leigh for helping and told him to dress before breakfast,
which he found very odd indeed. At home he and Mum had always eaten
jam on toast upstairs in my room whilst I tried to get my strength
together for the day. The smell of cooked breakfast food wafted in
as he stood there in doubt and I smiled as it tempted him away to
find his clothes.
“
Do have something smart to wear Kit?” Mam asked as she gently
brought me nearer the edge of the bed.
to ask what for until I remembered with dread. The German in my
head had pushed out the appointment, but now I knew once again that
I had a date with the doctor not long from now.
***
Leighton was
invited to stop at home and explore Ty Gwyn whilst we went over the
hill to meet the doctor. Though I didn’t like the thought of Blod’s
version of looking after him, he seemed keen to have a wander round
the out buildings in search of chickens and things, so I put my
faith in Mam and let him stay. It wasn’t fair really to drag him
out to sit in a doctor’s waiting room anyway, no matter how much I
needed a familiar face with me. I knew Mam had sensed my nerves
because she put her warm hand over mine all the way to the surgery
in the car. Every time I looked at her rosy face she was smiling,
which made me feel a tiny bit better when the lovely white car
pulled up outside a little cottage.
It certainly
wasn’t the whitewashed, sterile office in Bethnal Green that I was
used to. When Mam wheeled me inside I was fascinated by the
photographs of happy miners and farmers on the walls and the cosy
collection of various armchairs that had been donated to make up
the waiting room. The secretary that took some information from me
was a dear old lady who offered me sweets as she starting telling
Mam all the latest news from the village itself. I tuned out of the
conversation, settling into the place and enjoying the smell of
fresh flowers and peppermints as I waited.
“
Catherine Cavendish?”
“
Oh hello Doctor Bickerstaff,” Mam said, wheeling me round to
the source of the voice.
My first thought was that he looked like Robert Taylor the
film star, except that he was much more fair-haired. Mum had taken
me to see
A Yank In Oxford
last year in Leicester Square for my birthday
treat. Doctor Bickerstaff couldn’t have been a day over 30. He was
smartly dressed with big blue eyes that landed on Mam. He gave her
a polite nod, and when he spoke again I realised that he was
English.
“
Ah Mrs Price, good day. I’d like to see Miss Cavendish alone
for the initial assessment if you don’t mind.”
“
No, no, whatever you think is best Doctor,” Mam answered. It
was clear that she revered the young professional a great
deal.
looked down at me, but he didn’t move to take my chair. I didn’t
move either, of course, which left us in a strange, awkward staring
contest for a moment. The fair doctor folded his arms.
“
Well?” he demanded, “Can’t you wheel yourself?”
something terribly harsh in his voice like a schoolmaster. I felt
my nerves rising again.
“
No of course not,” I answered, half anxious and half annoyed.
Couldn’t he see how incapable I was?
Bickerstaff sneered, and suddenly he wasn’t so much like a film
star.
“
How disappointing,” he observed.
with disturbingly brisk strides to take my chair and wheeled me
very quickly into his office. I had to hold on to my armrests so as
not to slide out of the chair when he stopped short of his desk.
Instead of sitting behind it he pulled up a chair opposite me and
took a paper file from his desk, ignoring me for several
uncomfortable minutes as he consulted it.
“
Juvenile Arthritis,” he concluded, snapping the file
shut.
“
Excuse me Doctor,” I said quietly, “But Doctor Baxendale
called it Still’s Disease. Is that the same thing?”
“
Your Doctor Baxendale’s an idiot.” Bickerstaff hardly looked
at me when he spoke. “He doesn’t know his ilium from his olecranon.
Now, I want to see you stand. Get up.”
like it was an easy thing to do. The blonde sat back in his chair
expectantly, making it quite clear that he wouldn’t be giving me a
pull to help me to my feet. I steeled myself, reaching both hands
out to grip his desk ready to make the effort. When my feet found
the ground I could already feel the pinch where the skin around my
ankles was swollen, when I pressed a little weight onto them the
sensation was like somebody inserting a screwdriver right into the
joint and twisting it hard. I cried out at the first sharp moment
of pain, looking at the doctor viciously.
“
I can’t,” I said through gritted teeth, “I’m sorry Doctor,
but I can’t.”
“
Get up,” he repeated.
hotness of water rising behind my eyes but I did my best to bite
back the tears that wanted to come pouring out. I felt like his
stern face might just break into a smile if I did. The only way to
win the argument was to prove myself right. With an almighty force
I hurled myself onto my feet as though I was shifting my weight
onto a bed or another chair, but instead I used the desk to push
all of my weight onto my legs. My knees buckled under me after just
a few seconds and I felt myself dropping to the floor like a
crumpled sack of vegetables.
And Doctor
Bickerstaff let me fall.
He actually
let my head hit the lino floor in his office before he even moved a
muscle. After I had landed the impact sent a shockwave of pain
through me so hot I’d have sworn I’d been set on fire. It was then
that Bickerstaff got up to assist. He lifted my weak little frame
with ease back into my wheelchair in seconds. I kept my head down,
determined to show him no gratitude for the aid, since it was his
fault I’d fallen in the first place.
“
I told you I can’t do it,” I spat, seething as blood flushed
into my cheeks.
“
How interesting,” he said.
corner of my eye I could see him offering me a tissue. I snatched
it out of his hand like a child in my rage. Interesting? I’m sure
he’d find it terribly interesting if he fell flat on his face and
nobody gave him any sympathy. After I had dried my eyes I managed
to look at him again, but he had his nose back in the file and he
was writing something down. Then without even checking on me he got
up and went to call Mam into the room. To my great relief she came
in in a flurry as soon as she saw me red-faced and teary.
“
What’s this now?” she demanded as she pulled up the chair the
doctor had been using and wrapped one matronly arm around my
shoulders.
“
Nothing to worry about Mrs Price,” Bickerstaff said casually,
“Catherine’s had a bit of a strain from the physical test I gave
her.”
strain? Rude as it was for a young lady, I wanted to slap him
across the face. If I had had the strength, I might have. The young
doctor took his place behind his desk and pulled open a noisy
drawer, producing four large objects made of fabric and wood. There
were two boards about the length and width of shoe boxes with
fabric straps attached to them, followed by two more that were only
about the length of a domino box. The smaller ones had two boards
each on them with a strap going all the way around, as though they
were designed to be wrapped around something.
“
What are those?” I asked, my nose turning up against
them.
“
Your treatment,” Bickerstaff replied in that same clinical
voice. He turned his attention to Mam. “Catherine’s condition is
quite serious, I’m afraid, and her previous doctor has done very
little to improve her chances in the last three years. We must
resist the contractive fusing of her joints overnight before it
becomes permanent.” Mam was hooked on every word he said, nodding
profusely. “Every night for the duration of the night, Catherine
must wear these splints on her knees and elbows to keep the joints
straight and prevent contraction.”
“
Every night
?” I exclaimed, looking
at the horrible hefty things with loathing.
“
And I want her to practise propelling herself in the chair,”
Doctor Bickerstaff continued as though he hadn’t heard me at all,
“So give her some old gloves to handle the wheels and encourage her
to move short distances alone. Don’t be tempted to help
her.”
me. Had he really just said that?
